


You Say It's Not Me, It's You

by ed_anyeros



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Thea Queen & Felicity Smoak Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3097004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ed_anyeros/pseuds/ed_anyeros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy nodded in solidarity, shooting Oliver a knowing look, “Yeah, it can be real hard to keep secrets. Especially when you really care about a person.”</p><p>Oliver curled further into himself and growled impatiently, “Felicity, the bandage.”</p><p>“Oh, of course,” her hands skimmed over the wound on his back arranging the elastic covering to her liking, “and if you don't trust me with the suture kit, you should probably go to the hospital.”</p><p>“No,” Oliver slid on his hoodie and zipped it up.</p><p>“Well, at least let John put a few stitches-”</p><p>“No.” He snapped up his helmet and jammed it on.</p><p>“If you re-open that Oli-”</p><p>“Bye Felicity,” he called back as he jerked the outside door open.</p><p>“Jeeze,” Felicity sounded muffled through the padding in his helmet, “who poked the bear tonight?”</p><p>He heard Diggle's reply right before the door slammed shut, “Wasn't it a bullet?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Say It's Not Me, It's You

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt fill for NYS1065! I can't find it, but I know there was pining, protective Oliver and team dynamics, with a dash of H/C thrown in.

“You don't need the suture kit,” Oliver grit out as the sting of an alcohol wipe burned his shoulder, “it's not bad enough.”

“How would you even know how bad it is?” Felicity challenged him from just over his shoulder, the bloodied cotton pad thunking into the trash can.

“I can't see it Felcity, but I sure as Hell can feel it,” his voice ground low, irritated, “and I don't need any stitches.”

“Not everything can be solved with med tape and an ace bandage,” Felicity replied leaning in, her breath a caress on his aching back. Oliver turned his head and clenched his fists against his tense thighs. “It'll be three, maybe four stitches,” she continued. “Which is pretty good considering you got shot.”

“ _Considering_ the line of work I'm in Felicity, that's even odds.”

“Oh yeah?” Felicity shot back her hands smoothing med tape across his upper back, “That's a great position to take _considering_ you're not the one who has to-”

Oliver's jaw flexed, “ _Considering_ the faulty intel, and _considering_ the fact that it was just me and Roy against a warehouse of them, I figure I did pretty damn good with just a graze.”

“You're right,” Felicity whispered, her hands stilling on his shoulder, “I'm- I'm sorry about the miscount. I-” she swallowed thickly, “I should have been keeping better track of them... I'm just not having any easy time in my personal life right now, and-”

It was times like this that Oliver wished he wasn't so hyper-aware all the time, that he wasn't honed like this, so he could be just a man. That way he could have missed her quiet hitching breaths, and the fine tremor in her hands. He slid his left hand across his chest and pressed his calloused fingers into her delicate ones. “I didn't mean that Felicity, I-”

“No, it's true,” she cleared her throat loudly, “But I don't think it'll matter for much longer anyway.”

“You giving up on Brayden already?” Roy asked, perched on the matching stool on the other side of the med table. 

“No,” Felicity said, her voice stronger, “and his name still isn't Brayden, no matter how often you call him that. But I don't think he'll stick with me much longer. Too many secrets you know?”

Roy nodded in solidarity, shooting Oliver a knowing look, “Yeah, it can be real hard to keep secrets. Especially when you really care about a person.”

Oliver curled further into himself and growled impatiently, “Felicity, the bandage.”

“Oh, of course,” her hands skimmed over the wound on his back arranging the elastic covering to her liking, “and if you don't trust me with the suture kit, you should probably go to the hospital.”

“No,” Oliver slid on his hoodie and zipped it up.

“Well, at least let John put a few stitches-”

“No.” He snapped up his helmet and jammed it on.

“If you re-open that Oli-”

“Bye Felicity,” he called back as he jerked the outside door open.

“Jeeze,” Felicity sounded muffled through the padding in his helmet, “who poked the bear tonight?”

He heard Diggle's reply right before the door slammed shut, “Wasn't it a bullet?”

Oliver slung one jean clad thigh over the saddle of his bike, and flew out of the alley way. He zigged and zagged aimlessly, at one point heading down Wharf St. and dangerously close to Triad territory. He relished the thought. Some stupid asshole, trying to pick a fight with a lone biker in the middle of the night. _I can't believe I'm so wound up from that fight_. 

Normally he could push it away a little easier. He didn't usually spend his free time roaming around the Glades looking to smash someone's head in. _A certain someone's head_... he thought darkly as the face of Felicity's boyfriend flitted through his brain. And as much as he wanted to shake the man for throwing away anything he could have with Felicity, that thought was overlaid with a thick layer of _Thank God_. 

Oliver had just taken a left onto Spring when John came on over the Bluetooth in his helmet, “Oliver, you should get to the hospit-”

“No,” Oliver interrupted, “I told Felicity I'm not going and I meant it.”

“Oliver that's not-”

“Bye John.” He switched off the Bluetooth and gunned the engine. Not a minute had passed when his comm crackled to life.

“Oliver, this is serious.” _John_.

“I'm serious,” Oliver pitched his voice low.

“Would you just-”

Oliver reached under the helmet and pulled the comm unit out and shoved it into the front pocket of his jeans.

Four hours later Oliver had a fat lip and a set of busted knuckles. He had also dumped two zip-tied known drug dealers with active warrants on the steps of an SCPD precinct building. He was just pulling up out side the Arrow Cave when Roy jumped out from the recess around the door and bolted to him.

“Let's go man.” Roy shouted as Oliver slipped his helmet off.

“What are you talking about? I just got here, I'm going to bed.”

“No, man. We got to get to the hospital.”

Oliver rolled his eyes, “Not that again, I told Felicity-”

“But it's Felicity,” Roy blurted out.

“I know I usually don't say 'no' to her but-”

“No,” Roy stopped dead in front of him, “It's Felicity. She's in the hospital.”

~*~*~*~*~

Felicity's head ached, and her mouth felt like she'd been chewing on scouring pads. She heard a distant _beep beep beep_ and tried to turn towards the sound. She heard voices then, garbled and distant. She wished she could ask them to get her a drink of water. 

~*~*~*~*~

Oliver strode through he ICU in the middle of the night with all the casual authority of a man whose name was on the side of the building. He breezed right past the “Visiting Hours Are Over” sign perched on the nurse's station and down the hallway to where he could see Diggle on a bench against the wall. 

“What the hell happened?” He demanded, folding his arms across his chest.

Diggle twisted his head up from where he'd been cradling it in his hands. “Well first,” he said stretching his legs out, and folding his own arms in a mirror of Oliver's pose. “I tried to call you like a normal person, but you hung up on me.” Oliver clenched his jaw and jammed his hands in his pockets. “Then I got you on the comm, which I thought was a little less civilized, but in dire circumstances...” Oliver's finger's collided with the comm unit still in his pocket. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.

“How dire?”

“No one's sure yet.”

“What does that mean?” Oliver growled out.

“They don't know how long she was laid out before her neighbor called it in.”

“Unconscious?” Diggle nodded. “When did she wake up?”

John drew a heavy breath, “She hasn't yet.”

“Concussion?” Diggle nodded again. “Any other injuries?”

“No broken bones.”

“That's good.”

“The rape kit came back negative.”

Oliver inhaled sharply as his stomach dropped, and his head swam. He set himself heavily onto the bench next to John. Bracing his elbows on his knees, and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. “So, head trauma?”

Diggle tipped his head back against the wall and stared vacantly at the flickering light overhead, “And we wait.”

He tipped his face to John, his brow furrowed slightly, “Why'd they call you?”

The back of Diggle's head rolled along the wall as he turned towards his friend, “I'm listed as her In Case of Emergency contact in her cell.” _It should be me. I should be listed in her phone as_ \- Diggle's humorless laugh interrupted his train of thought, “She's your assistant Oliver, it would be weird for you to be listed as her ICE contact.”

“I wasn't thinking that,” Oliver denied, the corners of his mouth turning down in a frown. 

He could practically hear John's eye roll as he went back to staring at the ceiling, “The only one you've got fooled with that is her.”

Oliver jumped to his feet then. All his nervous agitation from earlier in the night returning. “I can't just sit around and wait.”

“So go and do what you do,” Diggle slid his eyes closed.

“What?”

Diggle cracked an eye and, gestured to the emergency exit at the far end of the hall, “Figure out what happened. Go and Arrow something. And take Roy with you!” He shouted to Oliver's retreating back.

By the time Oliver roared up outside the Arrow Cave, he was sure of one thing. This was her boyfriend, had to be.

 _He's been wanting to break it off with her, maybe something happened? Maybe he didn't maliciously set out to hurt her, maybe he got angry and he-_ Oliver's hand gripped the door handle harder than strictly necessary as he wrenched it open. _It's him, it's got to be_. 

He flipped on the lights and watched as Roy blinked awake from where he'd been hunched over Felicity's desk.

“We need to find Brayden.”

“What?” Roy blinked sluggishly, clearly not fully awake yet.

“Her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Roy said switching a monitor on, “you mean Brian?”

Oliver jerked to a halt behind his team mate, “I thought you said it was-”

“I was just guessing.” Roy interrupted him, “Has Felicity woke up?”

“No,” Oliver whispered, “but I know that-”

“He should totally be informed,” Roy turned to face him, “I mean, she's his _girlfriend_ and everything.”

“No,” Oliver glanced down at his boots and then back to the monitor. Rubbing his hand along the back of his neck, smoothing his fingers over the bandage Felicity had applied earlier, where her fingers had touched him. “He did this to her and I need to find him.”

Roy spun swiftly in the chair to gape openly at his friend, “How? How do you know he did this? There were no witnesses.”

“I have a feeling-”

“You can't go on just feelings,” Roy spun back to the screens, “Jesus, when I'm the calm, and rational one...” he muttered to himself. “Ok here, red light cam,” a grainy black and white image popped up on the screen. Roy rolled the footage back to the appropriate time and they watched in slow motion as Felicity parked her car at the end of her block, walked up the pavement towards her building, and fell in the middle of the sidewalk. Her head bouncing twice on impact. “I didn't see anything,” Roy turned to Oliver, “Did you?”

Oliver poked his finger at the image and said, “Enhance this, Felicity has some program-”

“I'm on it,” Roy clicked the mouse a few times, and they replayed the footage. And again, parking the car, walking towards her house, falling over. “It looks like she just... slipped and fell.”

Oliver turned and strode back to the door snapping up his helmet as he went. “She could have been darted in the neck. Keep checking that camera, it might have been tampered with. I'm headed out there.”

He sped through the predawn streets of Starling. His body steering the bike on auto-pilot to Felicity's house as he filled his conscious thoughts with exactly how bad he was going to make someone hurt for this. He smiled in grim satisfaction imagining driving his fist through someone's face, bones crunching under his boots, the dull thud of an arrow piercing a man's chest cavity. _Brayden/Brian or Ra's or... it doesn't fucking matter. Someone will pay for this._

He was idling down her quiet street, not wanting to disturb the seeming early morning tranquility of her suburban neighborhood. He rolled to a stop alongside the sidewalk where she'd been found, where he'd watched her drop. His eyes scanned the pavement, the gutter, the lawns and the hedge rows, looking for a dart gun, a tale tell foot print in the frosty grass, an adversary. His stomach lurched at the smear of her blood still on the cement. 

He dismounted from his bike and nearly landed on his ass in the gutter. It was only due to quick reflexes and years of training that he caught himself at all. After he steadied his stance he noticed the sheet of black ice that spanned across the sidewalk and half way into the street. His eye traced it back to a broken (and obviously leaking) sprinkler head, tucked between two box-woods.

He inhaled deeply. Trying to reign his thoughts back from the sound beating he was meticulously planning out for Brayden/Brian when he found him. _It was just an accident. No foul play, so no fight. Not a bad guy, just bad luck_.

He jumped back onto his bike, fished the comm out of his pocket and slotted it into his ear. “Roy?”

The comm buzzed once. “Yeah?”

“I'm headed to the hospital, I'll meet you there.”

~*~*~*~*~

Oliver slumped in the driver's seat of the zippy little sports car he'd swapped the bike out for after Nurse Hard-Ass had him booted from the ICU after loitering in the hallway all day. 

“You aren't family, son,” she'd said.

“No,” he'd replied flashing his playboy smile, “I'm Oliver Queen.”

“Just because your name is on the wing, doesn't mean you own this place. Patients have a right to privacy. Visiting hours are over, and I'm asking you to leave.”

“But then why is-” he gestured over his shoulder to Diggle.

“She's listed Mr. Diggle as her emergency contact in the event of no family. It's all on file.”

 _She is my family,_ he thought darkly. “But she's one of my most valuable employees.” He could feel his smile getting brittle and hard around the edges.

“That doesn't make her your family.”

“Hey Oliver,” Diggle had stepped up behind him, “why don't you head home for a while, get some sleep. I'll call you if anything changes.”

He turned to face his friend, “I can't leave her. Not when she's-”

“I think you better,” Diggle gripped his shoulder tightly, whispering low into his ear “because I think Nurse Ratched is about to have security escort you out of here.”

Oliver smirked, it was hard, and a little mean, “You don't think I can take her?”

“It's not that at all,” John had started to pull him down the hallway. “But if you end up in the pokey for sassing that women- Who's playing by the rules I would like to mention, for the record.- We're all worried about Felicity, alright?” Diggle had managed to coax him all the way to the elevator bank. “I'll call you, OK?”

Oliver nodded, resigned. He turned on his heel, and stepped into the elevator.

He had done as Diggle asked, technically. He'd gone back to the Arrow cave, showered, changed his clothes, thought (briefly) about shaving, considered (for at least a minute) taking a nap. But in the end, opted to climb into his sports car, and head back to Starling General.

He'd driven it to the top of the hospital's parking garage and while it was further from her than he'd like to be, he didn't really want to risk a run in with Nurse Ratched. So gargoyling from across the street was as good as it got. 

For now. 

Felicity's light was on in her semi-private room and in the gathering darkness he had a clear view of where she was propped up in her bed. She seemed impossibly small against the starkness of the white sheets. Gauze wrapping around her head, her blond hair streaked with smears of blood. A cluster of towering machines around her still form, making her seem smaller yet. Tubes running to her nose, and in her arms, and snaking under blankets, going God knows where. 

Oliver's eyes were just starting to drift closed, no longer able to fight the pull of sleep, when he jerked back awake, twinging the wound in his shoulder. _Did I just see..._ he squinted at her window trying to discern Felicity from the reflections on the glass. _Must have just been a glare._ He had tipped his head back once more when one of her machines started blinking rapidly, drawing his attention and filling him with adrenaline. 

He was fumbling his phone out of his pocket to call John, when an orderly rushed into Felicity's room. He was pushing at the buttons on the blinking monitor frantically, and pulling on the wires of another, when two more staff ran in. 

Oliver flung his car door open, heedless of whether or not it bounced shut, and he raced to the top floor of the parking garage so he could zip line onto the roof of the hospital. 

He snuck down the back stairwell, and in through the fire door on her floor. Oliver made a bee line for her room, blood rushing in his ears as he tried to push back his fear. The halls were eerily silent for all the commotion just moments before. Panic began to seize him, dark and icy in his chest. _Why can't I hear her? Her heart monitor? Her breathing machine?_ He broke into a run and was nearly at her door when Digg suddenly appeared. “You can't go in there right now.”

“What happened? I saw an alarm go off, and her room was rushed-”

“How on Earth did you see any of that?”

“I found a good vantage point, and I-”

Diggle huffed, “Of course you did. Why do I even ask these questions?”

“Mr.Diggle?” He turned to Nurse Ratched from earlier. “Ms. Smoak can see you now.” She cast a critical gaze over Oliver's haggard appearance, the corners of her mouth pinched, “I guess you can come too.”

The nurse turned on one squeaky clog and lead them the rest of the way to Felicity's room. She pushed the door open and stood to one side. Pinning Oliver with a hard stare. “She's just regained consciousness. They're sending her down for an MRI within the hour. She's awake but not entirely lucid.”

Oliver tensed, “What does that mean?” He jammed his hands into his pockets to keep from fidgeting. 

The woman smiled slightly, the expression softening her hard features, “Well, she keeps calling me 'Aunt Tilly'.”

Oliver relaxed, “Right, of course.”

The nurse nodded twice, once to himself and once to John, before retreating to the Call Station. Oliver bit his lip nervously and glanced at Digg. Unsure how to proceed. To his surprise John was no longer at his back, but on the bench. “Aren't you gonna...” Digg gestured to the door.

Oliver swallowed and rolled the comm unit against his fingers. “I thought, you know... you first. You're her ICE contact and-”

Diggle chuckled, “Yeah? And you broke into a hospital to get to her.” His friend stretched out on the padded bench, conversation apparently over. 

Oliver took a steadying breath, and crossed the threshold into her room. 

It was quieter than he expected, calmer. Two of the monitoring towers had been removed, and the over head fluorescents dimmed. But even in the reduced light, Oliver could see that there was more color in her cheeks than had been there earlier. Her breathing was still shallow, but less labored. Her lips parted as she exhaled. They looked soft. 

Oliver settled himself on the side of her bed at her slight bend of her knees. He ghosted his fingers along the back of her hand, around her delicate wrist, and along the tender flesh of her inner arm, to where her IV was taped just inside her elbow. At his touch, she blinked her eyes open, squinting slightly with no glasses. “Hey,” Oliver whispered.

She smiled and tipped her head to the side, her eyes gentle, “Hey yourself.”

“How are you feeling?” Her smile faded slightly, and he could see her expression shift as she mentally cataloged all her injuries. She pursed her lips slightly. “Searching for the right word?” He kept his voice even, but couldn't deny the churning in his gut.

She sent him another small smile, “I feel ouch-y.”

He kept one hand against her arm as the other coasted up her shoulder and cradled the back of her head in his palm. “Here?” he asked, as he eased his fingers into her tangled hair.

“Yes,” she whispered, turning her face against his hand, her lips brushing over the pulse point of his wrist, “But just a little, not like... before.”

Oliver trailed his fingers along her cheek and jaw, resting his hand along her shoulder, his thumb sweeping in a lazy arc over the hollow of her throat. “Before?” he questioned softly.

Felicity's nose scrunched again in concentration. “There were... word noises,” she frowned, “and ding-ding, ding-ding.” Her voice sang out an imitation of a heart beat. 

“There were doctor's talking, and a heart monitor?”

Her face relaxed into a relieved smile, “Yes, that. Tilly said words might be hard for a while. And people. I'm getting a... thing done soon?”

“An MRI?”

“Yes,” she grinned up at him, “I'm so glad you're here.”

His hand stilled on her shoulder, thumb against her pulse. “I won't ever be anywhere else, Felicity. I promise.”

She yawned then, huge and uninhibited. “Gonna nap, Ok?”

“Of course,” Oliver stood, and pressed a kiss to her gauze covered temple, “sleep well.”

“Ok,” Felicity said again through another yawn, her eyes already closed. She pulled the thin hospital blanket up to her chin and rolled away from him, “Good night, baby. I love you.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Diggle jerked to full alertness when he heard Oliver stumble into the hall. Not because of his friend's wild expression, or because of his unsteady gait, but because he had heard him at all.

Oliver ran his hands against the back of his neck before pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. When he lowered his arms he had calmed some, but was obviously still rattled. “We need to call Brayden.”

“Who?” Diggle stood to his full height.

“Or, Brian? Her boyfriend?”

“Oh, Brenden. Why?”

Oliver sent a wounded look back through Felicity's door, “I think she wants him.”

“Did she ask for him?”

“She-she-” Oliver clenched his jaw, “I- that's who she wants.”

“That's weird, because she said it was over.”

“She's hurt Digg, she needs all the comfort she can get.”

“She's not exactly a reliable narrator right now, man.” Diggle strolled to the coffee machine in the lobby, “Felicity's the smartest person I know, but I don't think she _can_ know what she wants. At least not at this minute. How about we wait until the docs have run all their tests, and then we'll call Bradly.”

“I thought you said it was Brenden?” Oliver called from where he'd taken John's place on the bench.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Oliver hovered in the doorway behind the human wall of Diggle, Roy, and Thea. As much as it pained him to admit, and as much of a coward as it made him, he couldn't face her. Not after hearing her say those words, and knowing they weren't for him.

“... and these are her aftercare forms. If she exhibits any of these symptoms, bring her back immediately. Now, I know Ms. Smoak lives alone, but she'll need someone with her for the next twenty four hours.”

“That'll be us,” Thea interjected, squeezing her hands around Roy's bicep. “We're staying with her through the weekend.”

“Perfect,” the nurse handed the papers to Thea, “she'll need to come back in on Monday for another assessment and she still isn't cleared to drive, so...”

“When's the appointment?” Diggle moved to stand behind Felicity's wheelchair, “I can have her here whenever you need.” 

The nurse handed John her appointment card, and smiled at them. “Ms. Smoak is so fortunate to have all of you looking out for her.”

Felicity looked at them in turn, her gaze lingering the longest on Oliver. “It's true,” she whispered, “I don't know what I'd do without you.”

Oliver trailed the group to the patient pickup lane where Diggle had left the town-car. John was helping Felicity ease into the back seat while Thea slid in next to her. 

Roy was about to lower himself into the front seat when he turned suddenly to Oliver, “Are you coming?”

Oliver thrust his hands into his pockets, fingers on the comm unit, and cast his eyes around furtively, “Nah, the car's already full.”

Roy took a step away from the yawning car door. “You can ride with them if you want? I can get my bike and meet you all there.”

“No, that's,” he cleared his throat nervously, “I've got some stuff I got to take care of.”

Roy's brow furrowed, and as he opened his mouth to reply, he was cut off by Felicity. “It's Ok Roy, he doesn't have to come if he doesn't want to.”

Oliver's eyes slid up to clash with Felicity's through the rear windshield of the car. At her crestfallen expression he nearly crumbled. He'd taken a half step towards her, when a car honking behind him jerked him back to reality.

“Move it or lose it, asshole,” a burly man in a white compact yelled at him.

Oliver raised his hand and gave the man a stilted wave of apology, backing up onto the sidewalk. “I'm sorry- sorry.” By the time he'd regained his footing and glanced back, the town-car was pulling away. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Oh God, Thea, no! No more Antiques Roadshow!”

“Your doctor said you had to take it easy.”

“This is easy,” Felicity swept her arms in front of herself in a wide arc, the gesture encompassing all of her living room, and the detritus of her forty-eight hours of convalescing in it. “I haven't cooked a single meal, I haven't checked a single e-mail, I haven't even taken a bath!” she gestured at her messy bun, “Please, please Thea. You've done more than your due diligence, can I at least take a shower?”

“They're going to check your wound on Monday and the aftercare paper said-”

“I don't care what the paper said,” Felicity flung herself dramatically against the sofa cushions, “You haven't experienced Hell, until you've sniffed three day old, unwashed, blood hair.”

“But you're not supposed to-”

“Blood hair, Thea,” she shot her friend a loaded look over the rims of her glasses, “blood hair.”

“Ok, fine,” Thea threw her hands in the air in exasperation as she stood, “I'll get your towels and some clothes, and I'll meet you in the bathroom.”

“But I want-”

“No,” Thea pointed a warning finger at her from the foot of the stairs, “you're not washing out your blood hair so you can slip and fall in the shower!”

“Ok, fine,” Felicity pouted, “but no more Roadshow.”

Thea cast an appraising glance over her friend, “Deal.” Then she smiled cheekily as she jogged up the stairs, “I'm going to text Roy, and tell him we're showering together.”

Felicity grinned as she heaved herself off the couch, “You're terrible!”

~*~*~*~*~

Roy was standing at the far end of the range practicing his draw. He'd been drilling for well over an hour at this point and still couldn't get ten perfect draws in a row. And as a budding vigilante professional he shouldn't be this easily distracted. 

He totally was though.

Oliver and Diggle were circling each other on the sparring mats and somewhere along the line 'exercise' and 'training' had given way to 'brutal' and 'vicious'. And although the punches were usually pulled right at the last second, their strikes and kicks were a lot more savage than normal. 

Roy could only catch occasional snippets of their conversation across the vast, echo-y emptiness of the space. But he was sure he heard Oliver say “call her” at least once, and Diggle for sure said, “Bradly.” And some one _definitely_ said “nut up or shut up” but it wasn't clear who. But other than that, he wasn't positive. He couldn't muse on it any longer though, because his phone started chirping.

He plucked the phone off the computer table and smiled at the picture of Thea that popped up.

“Who's on the phone,” Oliver asked as he strode over, toweling the sweat off the back of his neck.

“Thea,” he tipped the phone towards his friend.

“What does she want?” Oliver's voice was low, agitated.

“She's with Felicity,” Roy said, turning his attention back to the cell.

“Why aren't you with Felicity?” 

“Because I am sick of The Antiques Roadshow.”

“You left your girlfriend and my- our friend alone because you are sick of some TV show?”

“You have, obviously, never been subjected to a marathon of that. I know more about Duncan Phyfe dining room chairs than anyone under fifty should.”

Oliver inhaled, bracing his hands on his hips, “But what if-”

“But what if- what?” Roy interrupted, “Something happens? She'll call 9-1-1, like she's supposed to.” Oliver exhaled and tipped his chin to his chest. “I get that you're worried, we all are. But I can only do so much mother-henning.”

Diggle appeared then, fresh from a shower. “Hey Roy,” Diggle slid a smirking glance at Oliver, “did Felicity ever tell you what went down with Brenden?”

“Who?”

“Her boyfriend? With the break up?”

“Oh,” Roy said nodding, “you mean Bruce?” Diggle nodded. “Yeah, she called him right before she took off.”

“Do you know what was said?” John pressed.

“No,” Roy shook his head, “but she seemed way happier when she headed out.”

“So,” Diggle smiled for real now, “she probably ended it?”

“Well,” Roy said, spinning the phone in his hand, “that's the most logical outcome.”

“Or they could have patched it up,” Oliver said turning on his heel, obviously done with the both of them. “I'm showering.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Twenty minutes later Oliver re-emerged to Diggle alone at the computer desk. “Roy's headed back to Felicity's,” he offered, unprompted.

“How is she?”

“She's apparently showering.”

Oliver bit back a low groan as two thoughts hit him. The first was a slippery, naked Felicity, which he tried valiantly to push into the deep dark recesses of his mind. The second, he gave voice too, “She's not supposed to get her wound wet.”

Diggle glanced up at Oliver, half his face in stark shadow from the glare of the screens in the dark space, “There was something about blood-hair. I don't even want to know.”

Rage rolled in Oliver's stomach at the stark reminder of how close he came to losing her. He squared his shoulders and plucked his helmet off a table, “I'm headed over there.”

Diggle swiveled in the chair and gave him a smirk, “That's the first smart thing I've heard you say in three days.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Felicity was squeaky clean and in a fresh pair of pajamas, swaddled in a blanket while Thea perched on the sofa back de-tangling her damp hair. She ran the comb gently across Felicity's scalp, taking extra care with her injury. 

“Roy texted me, he's bringing take out Chinese and My Neighbor Totoro.”

“Well,” Felicity said as she leaned into her friend's legs, “that's certainly a nice break from pizza and The Roadshow.”

Thea dropped the comb on to an end table and secured the loose braid she'd woven with an elastic from around her wrist. She was just about to plonk herself down on the sofa when the door bell chimed. “That's probably Roy.” She jogged to the door, eager to see her boyfriend.

“Hey,” Roy said from the yellow glow of the porch, “I come bearing gifts.” He hoisted the take out bag to shoulder height and waggled it at her. 

“You're a peach,” she said leaning in for a kiss.

They were in the small kitchen together, plating the food, and gathering utensils. “I'll go grab the other bag out of the car.”

“Another bag?” Thea called after him, “That seems a bit excessive for three people.”

Roy leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “I got a text from Digg, I don't think it'll be the three of us for too long.”

“Really?” Thea pulled back slightly to look in his eyes, “Is Digg coming too?”

“No,” Roy shook his head, “Diggle isn't coming,” he stressed, “but I think we'll be four for a little while, and then we'll be two,” he arched his eyebrows at her for emphasis.

“Oh?” Thea questioned, before realization dawned, “Oh! Ok,” she nodded, “more food it is.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Felicity smiled happily as Roy took her and Thea's plates into the kitchen. She rose unsteadily to grab the remote off the top of her book shelf for the DVD player when a knock sounded through her home.

“Who could that be?” Thea asked, all wide eyed and mock innocence.

Felicity narrowed her eyes at her friend. Suspicion growing, “That better not be a strip-a-gram.”

Thea blanched and shuddered, “Ew, God no.”

The question of 'who' was answered not thirty seconds later when she was stretched up on her tip toes, a hair's breadth from the remote, when two warm palms landed around her waist. “You're supposed to be in bed.” She wobbled in his grasp startled by his sudden closeness, his breath on her cheek. Oliver slid his arm more securely around her and steered her back to the couch, “Thea seriously?” he chastised his sister, “You can't let her wander around. She nearly fell over!”

“That's just because you startled me! That's hardly fair.”

He turned her in his arms then, folding her into an embrace, “Please Felicity, you have to take care of yourself, let us take care of you.”

“I am,” she tipped her head back to look into his eyes, “and I'm letting you guys bully me around about it too.” She raised her hands up to rest on his shoulders and pull him into a hug, when she noticed his small wince. And suddenly, she was a thunder-cloud. “Have you taken care of that graze at all?” Oliver flexed his jaw and looked away, guilty. “You haven't, have you? You have the nerve to burst in here and chastise me with your track record? That's it,” she pushed away from him abruptly, “shirt off, now.”

Thea poked her head in from the hallway, “Hey, Roy and I we're just going to-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Felicity waved them off with a flip of her wrist, “I'll see you in the morning.”

She heard the door slam right after she pulled her med kit off the shelf in the kitchen.

“Felicity, you don't have to-” Oliver had followed her into the cramped space.

“Don't start with me, Queen. On the sofa, no shirt.” She stopped abruptly and shook her head, _God that sounded way sexier in my fantasies_. 

Oliver did as she had instructed, hunched over much as she had been earlier. And like Thea, she climbed up behind him on the back of the couch. 

She'd barely pulled out a fresh anti-bacterial wipe when Oliver flinched away from her, “Ow, Felicity, that stings!”

“Seriously?” she dead panned, “It hasn't even touched you yet.” Oliver hunched further into himself. “And no growling. God, you are such a baby. I thought you liked it rough anyway.” She paused realizing her blunder, “I mean, with the punching and the kicking and you know... arrowing- Ugh, God, never mind.” She snapped her mouth shut and finished patching him up. Felicity rose from the couch, much less gracefully than she wanted to, and tossed the used supplies into the trash can. 

When she got back to the sofa Oliver was stretched out fully. His head on one arm of her sofa, sock clad feet on the other, still shirtless, the DVD remote in his hand. Felicity batted at his legs until he pulled them aside, allowing her to sit. 

Felicity carefully arranged the blanket around herself and settled in for the movie.

“Why are you sitting all the way down there?” Oliver questioned softly.

She sent him a small smile, “Seems for the best.”

He propped himself a little further up on the sofa arm and spread his arms towards her, “Come on.”

She gaped at him, “What are you-”

He rolled his eyes in annoyance, “Am I going to have to come over there and get you?”

She turned more fully to him, laughter in her voice, “Are you seriously asking for a snuggle right now?”

“No,” Oliver replied, his voice low and a mockery of his serious Arrow tone, “I am demanding one.”

Felicity huffed out a laugh and tipped into his arms. She poked his pec twice as he started the movie, “You're a lot less cushy than I imagined.”

Oliver smiled against the top of her head tossing the remote on to the coffee table, “I'm sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, no,” she said shaking her head, and nuzzling against him, “I didn't say that at all.”

By the time the previews were over Felicity had relaxed completely against him, her breathing unhurried and even. By the time the soot sprites had left the Kusakabe house she was loose limbed, and fast asleep.

Oliver brushed his lips across her temple once, twice. “I love you, too,” he whispered into her hair.


End file.
